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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092851">A Tipping Point Between Chaos and Order</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie'>cakeisnotpie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Phil/Clint This is Fear Universe [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternative Perspective, Espionage, Existential Crisis, M/M, My take on a spy thriller, Outed, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Phil's a superhero, Political Intrigue, Shit Hits The Fan, Slow Burn, Sokovia Accords, Superhero Registration Act, TRUST NO ONE, What if there's nothing there?, What-If, alternative universe, au SHIELD, au hero registration, phil coulson college professor, phil coulson superhero, shadow heroes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 03:27:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 6 of the "This is Fear" Series</p>
<p>Phil's been outed but that's the least of their worries.  Tony Stark highjacks Clint, Steve's in trouble, and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. Even Grey Force may not be able to see the pattern, but he may have to take charge anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Phil Coulson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Phil/Clint This is Fear Universe [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1019784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Tipping Point Between Chaos and Order</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Previously in the "This is Fear" series</p>
<p>"Standing Right Next to You"<br/>Phil Coulson, professor of history at Georgetown University, meets historical fiction writer Clint Barton and it's attraction at first sight. Too bad Barton is also the assassin Ronin, a shadow hero who refused to sign the accords, and Phil is Grey Force, a S.H.I.E.L.D. hero who works for the government. When Crossbones crashes a party at the Smithsonian, they have to work together to get out alive. </p>
<p>"This is Why I Have Trust Issues"<br/>Hawkeye helps Captain America free the Hulk from the raft where he's being experimented on by General Ross. Too bad that also puts Elizabeth Ross in the line of fire and brings Clint back into Grey Force's orbit. It takes both of them to help Cap rescue her and bring down a H.Y.D.R.A. operation. </p>
<p>"To Build a Better World"<br/>Director Pierce sends Dr. Phil Coulson to interview Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, a bad guy who has some important information. Along the way, Phil gets kidnapped and is caught up in an assassination attempt on Fisk ... good thing Clint is there to help him survive the craziness. </p>
<p>"The Wrong Business"<br/>Clint asks his ex-wife for help and ends up the main attraction at an underground auction with the worst of the worst criminals bidding for a piece of him. Will Phil be willing to sell his soul to save Clint?</p>
<p>"Keep Both Eyes Open"<br/>Phil's writing on his next book when some familiar faces come after him and he discovers his friends may not be his friends.  Pierce shows his hand, Fury's three steps ahead as always, and Phil's secret identity goes up in smoke. The only person he can count on, it seems, is Clint.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, Dr. Phil Coulson, author of a book about the excesses of S.H.I.E.L.D. is, in fact, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent himself, the illusive Grey Force. How has what you learned in your research affected your belief in the government management of the powered community?” Brian Lamb asked, holding up a copy of Phil’s latest, the one based on the data Clint had given him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s a good question.” Phil sat back in his chair, replying calmly.  “As part of my research for my book on Peggy Carter, I had already …”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>What was to have been a book notes interview had changed when Phil’s identity was dramatically revealed  yesterday. A terrorist attack, orchestrated by Alexander Pierce, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., on the Georgetown University campus had thrust him in the media spotlight. Not long into the coverage, someone had leaked proof that he was Grey Force. Phil had only managed to escape the plan to discredit and lock him up because of the machinations of Nick Fury, one of the most powerful shadow players, the spy’s spy.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint stepped into his boots and left them unlaced, half listening to the television as he closed his laptop. When Fury’s message came through, Clint had grabbed a few things and hightailed it to New York City to meet Phil.  Fury wanted Phil on his payroll and would do anything to get him there; much more than altruism, Clint trusted Nick’s naked self-interest. That Fury wanted Clint as part of the bargain, well, Phil had made his deal with the one-eyed devil to save Clint’s life, so maybe he owed Fury too. Still, Clint didn’t believe they were safe; he and Phil had agreed that he needed to protect his own cover identity. Too many people could link their names together. Even if it was just Clint Barton the writer of historical mysteries who got dragged into the news cycle, it would be all too easy for either Hawkeye or Ronin to end up on the chopping block alongside Grey Force. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“... signed the acords, but I’m a pragmatist, Brian. One thing the military teaches you is that life isn’t black and white,” Phil was saying. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shades of grey?” Lamb raised an eyebrow. “As in Grey Force?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Phil chuckled and gave that little half-smile and faint blush Clint absolutely adored. “Actually, I’m a sci-fi fan; it’s from <em> Star Wars </em>.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“God, you’re such an adorable nerd,” Clint said to the screen. “Nat’s right; I’m so far gone it’s not funny.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He flicked off the TV and grabbed his pack; no time like the present to get going. The bad guys wouldn’t wait; one night was pretty much all Clint could risk. Down the stairs he clattered, footfalls echoing off the bare concrete walls, listening for any sounds of being followed. Elevators could be stalled; stairwells offered multiple exits and there was always the option to jump the railing and take a shortcut.  Plus, there were doors like the one he took marked employees only with access to the loading dock and alley. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The plan was simple, well, at least as simple as it could be. Avoid media folk, self-isolate from Steve and Nat and the others, and play famous mystery writer for a couple of weeks. No mask, bow, or sword action unless necessary. When the moment came, the inevitable microphone shoved in his face, he’d plead ignorant to Phil’s second identity, say it doesn’t matter to him, then ask for them to respect his privacy. Like that would work, but it would make a great soundbite. Sympathetic boyfriend stands by outed hero. Might even give him a few chances to pimp his new Mantobbe series, talk about what happened to those early mutants. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A man in a suit, broad chested with a mess of curly hair, opened the door of a dark sedan that was idling in a no parking zone. Clint eyed the scene between heartbeats, scoping out possible threats and vantage points then slowed as the man spoke. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Barton? My employer would like to speak to you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Excuse me?” Clint watched the man for any hint of attack while he tried to see into the darkness of the car’s interior with his peripheral vision. Someone was sitting in the back seat holding something in their …</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For God’s sake, Hap, could you be any more cliche?” Tony Stark leaned forward and peered over his Tom Ford sunglasses. He held out a half-filled tumbler. “I’ll make you a deal, Barton. Got a few questions. You can drink my ridiculously expensive whiskey and tell me to go to hell if you want.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look, Mr. Stark, I’m flattered, really, but I can’t imagine what I have …”  Clint played up his confusion while his mind was running scenarios.  Stark might not be a rah-rah supporter of S.H.I.E.L.D. despite signing the accords, but he was beholden to government oversight. He’d be required to bring Clint in, or at least report him to the authorities, and that wasn’t on Clint’s agenda for the day. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, hell, I told you this wasn’t going to work,” Stark said into his phone. “Here, you talk to him.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The phone flew Clint’s way; he grabbed it before it started its downward arc. Stark raised an eyebrow and smirked at the quick reaction.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“... on his own, Tony. He’s got to make the decision …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.” Clint interrupted Steve mid-sentence. “It’s me. Stark literally threw the phone at me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve sighed. “Of course he did. The man doesn’t know the meaning of subtle. I’m sorry about the short notice; there have been some developments and they’re not good. We’re doing what we can on our end, but the shit is going to hit the fan and Tony’s the closest to get you out of the cross fire. He can explain.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint motioned for Stark to move over and kept talking as he climbed inside, Happy shutting the door behind him.  “It’s already in motion; Phil’s being interviewed right now …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That was just the opening move. We’ve got activity all over the world; we’ve lost contact with Xavier and someone tried to take down Perun outside of Togliatti …” Steve paused and Clint could hear the murmur of conversation in the background. “Okoye just sent an emergency burst. Something’s happening in Wakanda.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll come in …” He took the drink Stark pressed into his hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I need you there. Tony will fill you in; you can trust him, I give you my word. I’ve got to go.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The line went dead and Clint handed the phone back to Stark. “What the fuck is going on?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, big doings since your boyfriend got tossed into the fire.” Stark grinned. “How’s that going, anyway? Mr. Law and Order and The Original Tire Fire Himself?  Fallen in any dumpsters lately? How do you not end up skewered with construction debris anyway?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I scope out the best ones beforehand; it’s a better option than hitting the concrete,” Clint replied, trying not to let the fact Iron Man knew he was Hawkeye bother him. Of course, Stark knew. He probably had a spreadsheet of who’s who.  “Can we get past the insult portion of the introductions and go straight to the debrief? Kind of got a to-do-list that I need to jump on.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t worry; Fury’s got Coulson covered. Right now, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Stark flicked his wrist, tossing a projection into the air. A video began playing, an angle on the back of Clint’s New York apartment building where three figures climbed down the fire escape. His normal identity address, the one from his personnel file at his publisher’s office. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Clint swore. “I bet they left a real mess. I’ll have to call and warn the maid service; don’t want to give them a heart attack. I’m usually such a neat freak.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like you already.” Stark snorted a half-laugh. “If you had a copy of Coulson’s data, Masters’ will have found it and you’ll never know he was there. Man’s an ass, but he gets the job done. PIerce has him tied up tight with money and blackmail or I’d hire him in a heartbeat.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Masters?” Clint squinted at the frozen image. “I don’t know who that is.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We doing the ignorance route, are we? Fine, we’ll play it your way.”  Stark opened another screen filled with information. “Tony Masters, aka Taskmaster, trainer for all the nastiest of the nasties and a few others too. A perfect mimic … he’s doing a great Rumlow impression there but I happen to know Rumlow’s on the run after his little fiasco yesterday down in D.C.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought that was Crossbones and his crew; got caught on camera, fighting War Machine.” Clint wasn’t sure what the point of Stark’s free-flow of information was and, Steve’s word aside, he didn’t trust the guy as far as he could throw him. Despite all appearances to the contrary, Tony Stark of the fuck-you-and-the-horse-you-rode-in-on attitude had not only signed the damn accords but had encouraged others to do the same. That made his motives more than questionable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Brock Rumlow is Crossbones. Get with the program, Barton, geez.”  Stark sipped his whiskey. “And here I thought you were in on Capsicle’s little shadow kabbal.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not in anything with anybody; I play on a team of one … me.” And if he said it enough, maybe he’d believe it. “Rather than play show-me-how-smart-you-are, can we get down to brass tacks?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stark’s gaze was sharp and full of far too much knowledge. “Pretty sure the Widow would disagree with that assessment, but I’ll let it slide. Manly honor, I get it.  Pretend you’re the rugged individualist type if it makes you happy.”  He flicked through information quickly. “Okay, where to start?  You’re bumping uglies with Coulson so you probably already know about Pierce’s playing both sides of the field … pretty handy to be the head of both S.H.I.E.L.D. and H.Y.D.R.A., saves on the paperwork … and you helped Cap raid the prison, so you’re read in on the testing program.  Ah, here.” He stopped on an image of a lab with a roughly humanoid sized silver figure connected to all sorts of machinery. “Advanced Idea Mechanics are working on a robot with adaptive capabilities, able to learn and synthesize its opponents strategies and movements. They’ve got a contract with Hammer Industries to build an army of them once the last kinks are worked out. Guess who’s a silent partner in the endeavor?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pierce?” Clint shivered; he hated the thing on principle. “Thought you were the only game in town on artificial intelligence.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am, thus why theirs hasn’t had a successful test yet.” Stark gave a shark-like smile. “Justin used a bastardized stolen version of one of my designs; I always leave a back door for just such occasions. Been in his system for years.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Corporate espionage, Mr. Stark? Are you admitting to spying on your competition?” The schematics that were flowing across the screen were more than disturbing; a machine that analyzed and incorporated the strengths of its opponent? Could it take on more than one person’s powers at a time? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damn straight, Skippy. Hammer might be an idiot, but he’s got connections to some dangerous people.” Stark motioned to the grainy image in the lower corner, expanded it and tossed it to the other side of the care. “Like this piece of work …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aldrich Killian.”   Yeah, Clint remembered that face; Killian had been one of the bidders when he was up for auction. “What’s he doing with Hammer? He usually stays deep in his hole, away from sunlight.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aye, that’s the rub.”  Stark sent another picture to rest beside Killian’s face. “Seems Aldrich’s tossed his hat in the ring to be the new Head of A.I.M.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Head.” Clint snickered. “Didn’t the last guy end up dying in some immortality experiment, thought he could put his head in a robotic body?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dr. George Tarleton, yeah. Wanted to be a mechanical killing machine.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Ph.D. from the same place as Doc Ock. Sometimes I think we ought to have psychiatric testing as part of final exams.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nobody would graduate then,” Clint interjected. “You’re a textbook narcissist and don’t play well with others.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pot, kettle, Barton. PTSD much?”  Another picture, this one of a strange square metal box that projected a bright light into the air. “Killian, on the other hand, is a psychopath.  He’s working on a field portal that will open a pathway for, and I quote, ‘monsters from the id’ to manifest. Thought into matter. Someone needs to watch <em> Forbidden Planet </em>again  It’s his audition for the A.I.M. job.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The car slowed and turned into a garage; Clint glanced up through the moon roof and saw Stark Tower. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, that’s bad, yeah. Sounds like the kind of thing that could rip a hole in the fabric between time and space,” he admitted. “But it’s not my problem; I’ve got enough of my own, thanks, so if you just let me out here, I can …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe in isolation you could ignore Killian’s little doorway dream maker, but it’s part of the bigger pattern,” Tony said as the car came to a stop in a private area. “There’s a lot more going on than kidnapping and selling famous people or even Rumlow’s vendetta against Steve. Come up and I’ll lay it all out for you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look, no offense, but I don’t trust you.” Clint had the door open and was sliding out, pack over his shoulder. “Steve’s support notwithstanding, you’re the poster child for S.H.I.E.L.D. and I really don’t want to end up with my ass in a prison being experimented on. Appreciate the intel but …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve known who you are for years and haven’t sold you out. Not about to start now, when we’re close to unmasking Pierce for the double-dealing asshole he is.” Stark got out too. “Give me an hour, and if you’re not convinced, you can go back to your place with all the surveillance.” He started walking to the elevator. “You know PIerce is going to use you to get at Coulson? Clint Barton the novelist will be fair game for all of Grey Force’s enemies and leverage for those who want to get to him.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a big boy; I can take care of myself.” He wasn’t sure why he was pausing at all; Stark’s high profile was the last thing Clint needed right now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, for God’s sake, enough with the macho bullshit. We fucking need you if we stand a chance of surviving what’s coming.” Stark pushed the button and the door opened. “Now, I’m hungry, you hungry? Does Coulson like Thai food? I’m in the mood for something spicy. Know this place that makes the best pad prik; it’ll burn your tongue off.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He followed Stark; his overdeveloped sense of curiosity at meeting Stark appeared to be leading the way. Nat always said Clint picked the prickliest people or trouble magnets to befriend, a character flaw that could be used to his advantage. An opening to infiltrate Stark Industries rarely presented itself; she’d be pissed if he didn’t jump on it. So he got in the elevator, catalogued the seeming absence of cameras, which unnerved him a lot more than if there had been four obvious ones, and rode up listening to Stark talk about Singha beer and how Thai whiskey isn’t really whiskey but usually rice based. When the door slid open, depositing them into a vast living room with high ceilings and a view of Manhattan to die for, he had a rough plan of how to proceed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Step one: get all the information Stark was willing to share,</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Step two: meet up with Phil, assuming Stark wasn’t blowing smoke out of his ass on that one, and,</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Step three: get the hell out of Dodge without revealing anything more than what Stark already knew. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Brucie baby, I ordered you some Gaeng Noh Mai Dong and those curry puffs you like. We’ll set up in the dining room.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The dark haired man Stark was speaking to turned; in a rumpled yellow button up and khaki pants, he stopped cleaning his glasses with his shirt tail and slipped them on. Only experience undercover kept Clint from freezing on the spot when Tony caught his elbow and dragged him over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look who I found on the street?” Tony literally bounced on his toes as he introduced them.  “Your favorite mystery writer!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Clint Barton.” He held out a hand to arguably the most powerful of all supers without a flinch. “Nice to meet you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tony didn’t tell me you were coming, but then he does that a lot. I’m Bruce, Bruce Banner.”  Banner shot Stark a look. “I’m guessing he didn’t give you any choice in the matter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pulled up on the sidewalk and had his driver order me in the car,” Clint replied. “Like we were in some James Bond movie.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tony has an issue with controlling things, and the fact that he’s often right, doesn’t help,” Banner said. “I really am a fan, though. Your Charles Brandon series was excellent; I’m working my way through the Elizabeth Revere ones now.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Always happy to meet a fan …” Clint was cut off by Stark. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, but you two have met before, haven’t you?” Tony did the hand wave thing again and a security video from the Raft began playing, showing a long hallway of cell doors. As Hawkeye came out of one, he flipped a salute to the camera as he ran by; seconds later the door burst outwards and the Hulk emerged before the screen went to static. “Barton is the one who broke you out of prison.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tony.” Banner’s gaze grew flinty and a hint of green crept into the whites of his eyes. “You don’t go around outing people like that.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint involuntarily took a step back and wished he had his bow; the knives he had on him wouldn’t do much against the Hulk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now, look, you’ve gone and scared him. He’s all skittish again and just when we were making progress.”  Stark patted Banner on the shoulder then turned his head towards Clint. “Don’t worry, Bruce has it under control, don’t you, Jolly Green?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sometimes I swear you have a death wish,” Banner answered as the green faded. “But, yeah, I’m good. Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Thank you for that, by the way.  I’ve seen what Ross planned to do and you were right; the world doesn’t need an angrier, stronger Hulk to contend with.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m glad.” Clint had wondered; after they’d saved Betty Ross from H.Y.D.R.A.’s experiments, she’d fallen off the radar. He’d assumed the Hulk had taken her somewhere and Stark Industries would have the resources to help her. “Too bad Ross is still out there; man deserves a cell right next to Blonsky, if you ask me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I’ve got eyes on Thaddeaus, don’t worry.  He’s worse than Hammer; we’ve tabbed half a dozen mercenaries he keeps in contact with.” Stark swiped the video away. “He’s one of those true believer assholes, thinks he’s on the side of truth, justice and the American way when really all he is is a bastard.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir, Colonel Rhodes has arrived.”  Jarvis’s voice said. “He’s on his way up.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good timing.” Stark said as the elevator opened; a slim man in jeans and a t-shirt exited. “Food’s on the way; we just need <em> Star Wars </em> boy and we’ll be good to go.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello to you too, Tony.” As Rhodes turned, Clint saw a line of bruises running up his neck and behind his ear. “And you must be Barton; good to see Tony didn’t run you off already. Jim Rhodes.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shaking his hands, Clint couldn’t help but notice the scratches on his forearm. “He piqued my writer’s curiosity, Colonel, what can I say?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Rhodey. He’s Rhodey, I’m Tony and that’s Bruce.” Tony tossed over his shoulder. “First names only around here. Now, let’s get a drink and get this show on the road.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He actually means well,” Rhodes said. “We really do need your help.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know what I can do for you.” Clint went with his best innocent ‘who me’ face. “This is all above my pay grade.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, please.”  Stark literally rolled his eyes. “Save that for someone who doesn’t have files on all the major players. How is Natasha, anyway?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, that’s it.” Clint quit pussyfooting around. These people knew far too much and he sure wasn’t going to put his fate in their hands. “I’m out of here.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait.”  Rhodes tried, but Clint was done. He really didn’t want to burn this identity … he liked writing, damn it … but it looked like he had no option.  “We really do …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint jammed his finger in the button, but the elevator door didn’t open. He hit it a few more times. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, that won’t work,” Tony drawled. “Jarvis has the whole place locked down.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck you, Stark. So much for helping each other, eh?”  Clint gauged the distance to the patio doors; the metal line in his belt had enough tensile strength to swing him to a nearby roof. “Already called S.H.I.E.L.D.?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Barton, please.” It was Bruce Banner who stepped into Clint’s way. “I know you have no reason to listen to me, but … I’m in your debt. For what you did for Betty. For what it's worth, I promise Tony’s on the up-and-up; he’s known about me, protected me, given me sanctuary over the years. He might come across as an egotistical ass …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!” Stark interjected. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“... but he’s right about working together. I’m not much of a joiner … I tend to break things, so trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think we need each other,” Banner continued, ignoring Stark. “After you hear what he has to stay, if you still want to leave, I’ll walk you out.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And I promise we’ll leave you alone,” Rhodey said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His fingers itched for a weapon but he tamped down on the urge. Patience, that’s what Natasha would counsel; the damage was already done and Stark hadn’t spilled the beans yet, so maybe Clint could learn something. Still, he’d need to keep a watch for a way around Stark’s A.I. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine,” Clint said. “Talk away. I’m listening.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Great. Good. That’s settled. Onward,” Stark replied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Trailing the others down the hallway, Clint paced off the length and made a mental map of each doorway, comparing it to the building plan he’d studied a few years ago. Some of the walls had been shifted, but the most noticeable change was the absence of any visible surveillance equipment on this level. That worried Clint more than a panic room or a secret corridor; those he could suss out without any problem. But if the stories were true, that Stark’s A.I. was sentient to the point of total integration, well, at least Clint would have a sellable piece of intel from today’s fiasco. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stark led the way into a conference room with a wall of glass that looked out over Central Park. “Alrighty then. Jarvis? Light us up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holographic projections jumped to life on every wall and across the surface of the slick black table. LIke a conductor, Stark orchestrated it all, flicking open and closed, scrolling through with fingertips, enlarging and minimizing by waving his hands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jay, give Barton the ‘on last week’s episode,’ will ya?” Stark ordered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course sir.”  A video popped open on the wall next to where Clint had stopped, just inside the doorway. “In the last three months, I have flagged a number of suspicious events based upon criteria established by Master Stark.”  An image of Alexander Pierce came up, superimposed with quickly moving news headlines. “Director Pierce using S.H.I.E.L.D. resources to advance H.Y.D.R.A.’s agenda or his own personal needs.”  Next was a scrolling list of chat platforms, social media, and sites on the dark web. “Chatter on identified contact boards link about said events.”  A headline from the <em> Daily Bugle </em>about Wilson Fiske and his proposed memoir. “Suspicious movements among identified crime families and other known villains like Crossbones or the Hellfire Club.”  A snippet of an old interview where Clint had talked about future projects. “Questionable whereabouts and activities  of shadow heroes.”  A graph of power distribution in New York City followed. “All of which I have correlated to look for patterns.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Paranoid much?” Clint muttered as he saw the vast amount of information Stark was gathering. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know what they say about being paranoid. I’m just leveling the playfield,” Stark replied, attention on the wall of data. “One thing is clear; Pierce is accelerating his time line. He knocked over the first dominos and the rest are starting to fall.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint looked at the list on the left. A far number he was already aware of: Crossbones’ attack on the Air &amp; Space Museum, increased testing on S.H.I.E.L.D. prisoners, encouraging Ross in his pursuit of the Hulk, hiring Bullseye to assassinate Fisk. There was even an article on the discovery of Bulleye’s yet to be identified body. Others he didn’t know about: working with Trask Industries on mutant tracking software, an attack on an archeological dig site in China, Senator Stern instigating a hearing on SI suit technology. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So Rumlow at the museum was to sow confusion?”  Clint asked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“With the added benefit of creating fear as well as keeping Steve’s attention.  Classic slight of hand,” Rhodey said. “Everyone’s looking for a rogue shadow villain instead of keeping an eye on Pierce.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pierce moves and we get ripples.”  Stark moved on to the next column. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint kept his resting face tight when he read the fourth entry: appearance of data files (Coulson).  “What’s the deal with China? An attack there and then an auction of antiques at Sotheby’s?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We think Pierce is looking for an artifact.” Banner opened a page of the auction catalogue. “An ancient scroll discovered at the Mawangdui dig. The fact that the foremost scholar of Han Dynasty artifacts sold it along with her whole collection and took a two year sabbatical not long after the attack suggests she knows something.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nazis and their fascination with the supernatural.” Clint curled his lips. “Color me not surprised. Let me guess. He whosoever holdeth the scroll will be blessed with power or some such mambo-jumbo.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Load of bullshit,” Stark said. “More likely some information about comets and planetary motions during the era. Couple of other books were found in the same tomb that complied specific dates and sightings.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay.” Clint didn’t expect that answer, but, yeah, it could make sense. He looked at the heading on the next list. “F=MA? Force equals mass times acceleration?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ooo, bow boy knows some science.” Stark tapped the display and the words enlarged. “These are the other forces at play, the ones that we don’t know all the details about, but can use data to triangulate locations. This, for example, is one Nick Fury.” He tapped on the line that said ‘Emma Frost flies to South America; explosion at warehouse;Fury?’ “You’d know all about that, eh? How much did you sell for, by the way? Pretty sure my price would be too steep for even the deep pockets of the Hellfire Club.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint ignored the jab; he was beginning to get a better sense of Stark’s insecurities, the way he hit first to avoid being targeted on his hot button issues. “You’re missing a few details,” he went with instead. “Wasn’t Fury who blew the place to hell.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh?” Stark raised an eyebrow. “I assumed he did it at Coulson’s request. Wouldn’t be the first time Fury’s launched an offensive for an old army pal.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wade Wilson was there.” It was an easy enough bit of info to give up and that was all Clint had to say; Wilson’s reputation preceded him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Deadpool?” Rhodes grinned. “Yeah that explains the level of damage. Thought it was overkill for Fury; he’s usually more surgical.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Got it.” A line about Deadpool being in South America appeared in the last column, appropriately entitled ‘Weird Shit.’  “He’s as loose a cannon as you can get; no telling where he’ll go from there.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint stepped back and looked at the whole board. He had to hand it to Stark; it was comprehensive, filled with the kinds of information people died to get their hands on. The data Clint had found in Pierce’s safe room would go a long way to filling in the gaps. No way in hell he was sharing with the class, though. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Steve said things were going down now,” Clint said as a misdirect. “What’s happening in Wakanda?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And, yes, Project Acceleration.” Tony tossed up an array of screens.  “Whatever Pierce wants, he gone into overdrive, throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A stream of someone walking down a hallway, panning left and right, checking open doorways and the empty rooms inside. The camera caught a bulletin board; a flyer for a field trip to the MOMA had Winchester School for the Gifted’s seal on the bottom. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A video of a fight in a narrow cobblestone street … a black clad figure smashed through Botellas y Latas window while people cowered across the street in La Cacharreia coffee shop. Storm was almost overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of attackers packing the street and jumping down from the roofs above. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The trending #perunrules feed, tweet after tweet with pictures and videos of Perun, the Slavic god of lightning, battling what looked like a half-dragon, half-griffon with three heads that spewed fire.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>News reports about a break in at the Hunan Provincial Museum, complete with grainy video of a dark-haired woman and a silvery blur. An empty display case filled the screen, shattered glass around it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Satellite imagery of Eastern Africa, enlarged and pixelated, of some kind of triangular forms dropping from orbit and disappearing near Lake Turkana. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are those space ships?” Rhodes asked. “Seriously?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stark switched out the satellite for another camera; the grassy plain was filled with people, armed and armored, forming lines; ships were landing, settling across the river, dust blowing up around them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good God,” Bruce said. “How did Pierce …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re working on the assumption he’s the precipitating cause,” Phil said as he entered the room. Walking up to Clint, he leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not your fault.” Clint gave Phil’s wrist a quick squeeze; he immediately felt better. “Hell’s frozen over. Steve’s in league with the crazy genius over there; he talked me into listening.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Banner offered Phil his hand. “I’m Bruce Banner; nice to finally get a chance to thank you for taking out that H.Y.D.R.A. operation and saving Betty last year.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With only the slightest hesitation, Phil shook his hand. “I hope Dr. Ross is doing well. S.H.I.E.L.D. seems to have lost track of her.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Better than expected,” Bruce answered. “We’d love to have you and Clint to dinner sometime; she’s as big a fan of your writing as I am of his.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m glad to see you made it out of yesterday’s clusterfuck at Georgetown,” Rhodes said. “Sorry I couldn’t nail Crossbones for the murders; he had help getting away.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“War Machine.” Phil actually looked startled then laughed. “The double bluff. It couldn’t be James Rhodes because that would be too obvious.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The voice modulator and lifts in the boots help too,” Rhodes agreed. “And Tony hacked all my S.H.I.E.L.D. files so they think I’m an accountant in the Army.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Coulson!”  Tony called, shuffling even more windows of information, flinging them until they were lined up side-by-side, almost a whole wall of video, data, and graphs. “Welcome to the out-of-the-closet Supes club!  Been me and Steve for far too long; nice to have a new, if forgettable, face at the club BBQs. We’ve scheduled a seminar on how to handle the press for tomorrow at 9 am. Hope you can make it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stark.” Phil gave a cursory nod, his ambivalence for Tony evident. “I only came because Trip brought me which means you’re not completely onboard with Pierce’s agenda. I’ll give you fifteen minutes and don’t think I’m not pissed about you dragging a civilian into this. Clint’s off-limits if you want me to play nice.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony snorted. “Civilian. That’s a good one. Hey, tell me, does the whole’“never miss’ thing apply to prostate exams, ‘cause if it does …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tony.” Banner and Rhodes spoke at the same time, Banner pulling Tony back and Rhodes stepping between Tony and Phil. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right, yeah, not the time for my brand of humor, I know. Fine, down to business without jokes or moments of levity. Geez, Stevie would have gotten the joke.”  Tony literally pouted for a few seconds then turned serious again. Clint bit his lip to keep from laughing as the image of earnest Steve Rogers and Tony Stark together, but then he realized they both were passive-aggressive kings of steering things the way they wanted them to go. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir,” Jarvis spoke. “The food has arrived.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, good. Have Happy bring it up. Rhodey, you want to get drinks? I’ve about got this set up for Ash Ketchum over there to have a good look at it, see what patterns he can find.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ash Ketchum?” Banner asked no one in particular. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pokemon trainer,” Clint answered and earned confused looks his way. “Gotta catch ‘em all? Children’s cartoon from Japan. Tiny monsters that kids carry around and battle.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I think I saw that when I was in Kamakura,” Banner said. “Red and white balls they keep ‘em in?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My nephew likes the yellow one,” Rhodes added. “Something about electricity.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pikachu.” Tony clapped Rhodes on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you don’t know who Pikachu is. He’s the best.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Charizard,” Clint countered. “Pikachu’s too cute.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, contraire.” Tony took one of the bags of food from Happy as he entered. “Come, sit, and let me opine about the wonder that is electric pokemon while the Jedi Knight goes to work.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They spread the food out on the conference table; Clint snagged an expensive IPA long neck and popped the top. He might as well live high on the hog for the moment since the executioner’s axe was poised over his head.  Executioner -- that made him think of Emma Frost and the Asgardian who worked for her. He wondered if that was on one of the lists Phil was starting to peruse, and how often his own name appeared.  For someone with deep pockets and seemingly limitless technology, Stark had the time and ability to gather reams of data and the evidence of that was staring Clint in the face. If he’d shared it with Pierce …</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, you look like you’re about to murder someone,” Stark said, interrupting Clint’s thoughts. “Eat some curry, will ya? Geez.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint filled the first plate with a bit of this and a spoonful of that and carried it over to where Phil was already engrossed in the images floating in the air. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Food, Phil,” he told him. “Eat while you work.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then he made one for himself, piled saffron rice with entrees without asking what they were then balanced slices of na’an on top. He was hungry so why not?  If Stark thought to catch him out with spicy food, well, Stark had another thing coming. Nat always said that Clint had an asbestos covered tongue and iron stomach because he could eat anything. It was one of their go to ways to fleece people out of their money; bet that Clint could down a whole jar of peppers and walk away with the cash. Plopping down in a chair, he scooped up a spoonful and popped it in his mouth, chewing as he watched Phil begin to rearrange things. The heat hit the back of his mouth but he didn’t slow down, taking another big bite to follow the first. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not even a blink,” Stark groused. “You’re no fun, Barton.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Search terms? Indexing?” Phil paused and ate a forkful of curry; he coughed once then took a long sip of the drink Clint had put next to the plate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can process all your requests, Agent Coulson,” Jarvis said. “Establish any parameters you wish.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Excellent. Let’s start with location and index by date,” Phil replied. “Then we’ll add the variables of powers and start making connections.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, sir.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watching Phil at work was more than a little bit arousing. He flipped through the information, shuffling screens slowly at first then with increasing speed. He’d call out a word and the data would reconfigure, spreading out for him to peruse. Trask Industries. Eddie Brock. Senate bill 782.12. The Latverian Embassy in Hong Kong. Filtering through the vast amount of details, he absently kept eating, his plate steadily clearing as patterns began to emerge. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve heard he’s good, but this?” Banner reached for the last of the basil eggplant; he’d already finished off the red curry and was still putting food away. “I can’t even follow the threads he’s pulling.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jarvis could …” Tony started to say, but Rhodey cut him off. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, he couldn’t. Coulson can make leaps beyond Jarvis’ programming. Man’s freakin’ amazing.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint dipped his head to hide his smile because, yeah, Phil was special and Stark’s pout amused him.  He was learning so much about the man behind the iron suit; in even this short amount of time, Clint was realizing that Stark was much more than he let on. The playboy, self-centered egotist had people who cared about him … good men like Rhodes and super-intelligent ones like Banner -- and he was much more trusting than Clint had ever imagined. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, well …” Stark’s phone vibrated; he checked the screen then picked it up and flicked the image into the air.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tony!” Steve was shouting to be heard over the loud rumble of the jet he was riding in. “Any word on Xavier?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not a peep from the man and the mansion’s empty,” Tony answered. “Say hi to everyone.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve’s gaze swept the table. “Clint. Glad you stayed. I need your help with something. We’re en route to Wakanda; this may come to a straight up firefight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll put out the call,” Clint said. Steve’s face was as grim as Clint had ever seen; he was worried and when Captain America worried, it was time to circle the wagons and get ready for the worst. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Falcon’s already on that. We need Fury and his resources; can you …” Steve broke off, listening to someone out of the camera’s range. “When? Are they sure? Fuck.”  He turned back. “We’ve got volcanic activity on A.I.M. island; we’re picking up a distress call, going to divert to  …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jarvis!” Stark was out of his chair in a flash. “Give me a visual.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A plume of smoke roiled from the small atoll that Advanced Idea Mechanics called home base.  Rivulets of red hot lava poured down the side of the mountain, gravity pulling it towards the sea and right over the buildings that housed the villainous organization’s laboratories. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is Worrell Island Station calling for immediate evacuation aid. Mayday!  We have families here, children and spouses. Any ships or planes in the vicinity, we need help!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jesus,” Clint murmured. “So much for a new head of A.I.M.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Exactly the point.” Phil put the last bit of data into a box. “Captain Rogers, stay on your original course. They’re going to need you in Wakanda if I’m right.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And he always is,” Clint added. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll mobilize rescue efforts from here,” Rhodes promised. “There are always surveillance ships near there.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Steve said.  “I know we don’t see eye-to-eye on things usually, but this …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s time to put the old divisions aside,” Phil said. “Do the unexpected and see beyond them. We’ve been too busy fighting ourselves; time to stop.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have you figured …” Steve started to ask.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The screen flickered and turned to static for a few seconds before the image came back. Steve was hanging onto a bar, the jet rolling to the left, anything not strapped down tumbling around the cabin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“... stabilizers at half ... “</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another blast of static then the familiar red suit of Antman was spinning through the air. From the way his head was slumped and body unresponsive, he was clearly unconscious. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cap!” Stark called. “Steve, can you …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re under fire.” Steve’s face swam back into the frame. “Unknown planes, no markings, look like something from …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The call went dead. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jarvis, get him back!” Tony was out of his seat and striding across the room. “Pinpoint his location and plot a flight trajectory at top suit speed …”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint’s phone rang. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll get my suit,” Rhodes said, rising too. “Jay, log into my personal network and see who’s where in that part of the grid…” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint reached into his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Going off half-cocked is exactly what we shouldn’t do,” Banner argued. “We  need to stop and make a plan.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a sense of dread, Clint slid the answer button and put the phone to his ear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Barton, tell Stark to stand down. The attack is Pierce’s doing; he wants to draw Stark out.” Nick Fury’s voice came through, loud and clear. “Rogers already has it under control but his plane’s communications are damaged.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They’re fine,” Clint announced, raising his voice to be heard over Tony’s flow of instructions, “but they can’t contact us.  It’s a trap set by Pierce to get Tony to fly to the rescue.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Rhodes asked. “How do you …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fury.” Coulson crossed the space and held out his hand. “May I?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint passed the device over without hesitation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m putting you on speaker,” Phil said before tossing it on the table. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damn it, Phil, don’t you …” Nick sputtered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Listen up.” Phil used his Grey Force voice and everyone snapped to attention. “I’m not going into all of the details; we don’t have time for a long leisurely lecture. This is the executive summary.  All these events…” Phil said of the wall of data, “... point to one inescapable conclusion.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That Pierce is making his move to consolidate his power,” Tony interrupted, clearly impatient and ready to hurl himself into the fray. “Yeah, we knew that.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pierce is merely one of the cogs in this Rube Goldberg machine.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Phil waved a hand and a complex network of glowing lines appeared, connecting the data. Nodes emerged where they crossed, some small pinpoints, others bigger dots. And, right in the middle, a blindingly bright circle with a completely dark center. Phil expanded one of the larger dots; Pierce’s name came up and a long list of activities that traced back to him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve never seen anything like it. Pierce has his finger in all these pies … and I’ve only added a small portion of the information I used for my last book -- and it would seem logical that he’s the one pulling strings, but he’s not. He’s as much a puppet as Von Doom …” He expanded another node “... and Magneto …” and another “... and even you, Stark.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In orbit around Stark’s dot, Clint saw files named “Jericho” and “Ultron” and “Illuminati.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!” Stark protested, a flash of anger crossing his face. “How the hell did you …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Illuminati?” Banner interrupted, pivoting to confront Stark. “You’re part of that kabal? Do you know they were involved with Thunderbolt Ross and his Hulkbuster team?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That was before my time,” Tony told him. “I’m trying to change things, work from the inside …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?” Banner’s voice dropped lower. “Namor? Reed Richards? Black Bolt? All they think of is their egos, Tony. Not a single one of them give a damn about people like me or Betty.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bruce, I talked them into cutting Ross loose, and you know I keep tabs on him. Yeah, they’re assholes, but they can get shit done …” Stark argued. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jesus” Banner clenched his fists. “I thought you’d changed but you haven’t, have you? A tribunal of powerful white men? Running things behind the scenes? That’s a recipe for abuse.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gentlemen.” Rhodes injected himself into the argument. “Now is not the time; we’ve got fires burning everywhere, and we can’t afford to squabble.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, Rhodey’s right.” Tony slapped Rhodes on his arm. “This isn’t important right now.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, it’s important,” Rhodes shot back. “It was a dick move to not tell us; you have to stop thinking you can solve the world’s problems on your own; we’ll definitely get into this later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Rhodey bear …” Tony trailed off when Rhodes simply glared at him. “Right. Asshole. Me. Got it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No you don’t,” Banner muttered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can we get on with this?” Fury’s voice blared out of the phone. “There’s a literal volcano erupting and spaceships on the ground. Phil? What’s the endgame here? If it’s not PIerce or some villain or Stark’s rich boy play group, who is it?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s the strange part.”  Phil minimized everything else until only the big circle remained. “It’s nobody.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nobody?” Rhodes asked. “Someone who calls themselves Nobody? Dr. Nobody?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.” Phil shook his head as he spun the circle. No lists appeared, no videos or images or files. “There is absolutely nothing about who or whatever ties all this together.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s impossible,” Stark said. “Jarvis has access to every database, the cloud, the web … no one can hide that completely from him.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe they're not from Earth? Kree or Skrull or Nova Corp?” Banner suggested. “Or even an alternative dimension … remember that weird story Deadpool tells about being snatched to a parallel world?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where he shot baby Hitler and killed himself?” Clint asked. “That one’s bonkers.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Banner agreed, “but it’s theoretically possible.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Time travel,” Rhodes threw out. “That might not show up, right? Someone from the future screwing around with our timeline?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They’d have to appear in the timestream to make changes, though,” Stark said. “So there’d be data points. Same with people from outer space; ships land, they leave footprints both literally and digitally.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not hearing me.” Phil tried again. “There’s nothing there. A complete absence of information. You’re all assuming there is, but there’s not. No data, no person, no organization.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There has to be a cause,” Stark argued. “Things don’t happen without a reason. We might not be able to find it yet, but it’s there.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Logically, yes,” Phil acknowledged. “But not everything follows the rules of logic. Patterns can be prescribed, built upon the assumption that a meaning exists when it’s all just a construct with no foundation.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heaven and earth, Horatio,” Banner murmured. “More things that human philosophies can dream of.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can the  woo-woo-mystical crap,” Tony shot back. “Someone or something is causing this. If you can’t figure it out, just say so.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.” It was Clint’s turn to get in Stark’s face. “If Phil says there’s nothing there, then there’s nothing there. You got him involved in this, so let him do his job.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, look who’s taking up for his lover; what is it you do again? Shoot arrows and make people fall in love?” Stark spat at him. “This is useless. As usual, looks like it’s just us.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you can get your ego out of the way for a moment, Stark,” Fury said, “we need to decide on a course of action.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t have time for this. Let’s go, Rhodey.” Stark spun on his heel and headed for the door. No one else moved; he looked back over his shoulder. “What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We need them,” Rhodes said. “You know that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bruce?” Stark asked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Banner shook his head. “Call Namor. See if he’ll come.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine.” Stark threw up his hands. “I’m on my own then.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stalked out the door and an awkward silence followed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s worried about Rogers,” Rhodes finally said. “Once he hears from him, Tony will be back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought that had flamed out a few years ago,” Fury said. “So Stark’s still carrying a torch for Cap’s ass.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s a long story,” Rhodes said, glaring at Phil and Clint, “and one neither of them would want aired in public.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, mutually assured destruction here,” Clint replied. “I won’t tell, but I reserve the right to be a little shit to Steve about keeping it secret. Still can’t imagine the two of them together.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bucky Barnes. Tony Stark. Agent 13 … Rogers has a type.” Phil shrugged. “I suspected but didn’t know for sure until today.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look, Tony’s sex life doesn’t matter,” Banner said. “I’m more concerned about this missing center and the chaos going on around us.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.” The words of the poem popped into Clint’s head. “The blood-dimmed tide is loosed.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The best lack all conviction while the worst are full of passionate intensity.” Phil looked at the data again. “There are those who believe we came from chaos and to chaos we’ll return.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What does that mean, Cheese? Spell it out for those of us who don’t speak iambic pentameter,” Fury asked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s an old Chinese story about a hole in the center of the universe.  They called it Xūwú.. Literally translates as non-entity, nothingness. Because we can’t see, know, or fill it, we build around it, pave over it, pretend it doesn’t exist.  Every so often, though, it expands and reminds us that all we create is ultimately useless. Same ideas appears in a number of mythologies; the Greeks named it Antívli” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Antimatter?” Banner started at the convergence of information. “Some sort of sentient antimatter? That’s …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit,” Rhodes cursed. “Tony needs to hear this.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A crackle came from the phone then a blur of voices, one over the other, Fury’s muffled among the din. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wakanda. The ships are opening; there’s … it’s a motherfucking invasion,” Fury told them. “We’re getting interference.” A burst of static. “Someone’s here … going to go to … Trip! Get Trip and …”  A jumble of sounds and then Fury’s voice came through clear. “... up to you Phil. You see the big picture. Get people in the right places. I don’t know if we can …”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The call abruptly dropped out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The weight of the moment pressed on Clint’s chest. Rhodes was cursing quietly and Banner was taking slow deep breaths to keep calm. Phil’ picked up the phone, his hand shaking ever so slightly.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You heard the man,” Rhodes finally settled on saying. “Make the calls, Coulson.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Phil looked at Clint; Clint nodded. There was no doubt that Phil was the only one who could do this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay.” Phil closed his eyes for a second then opened them, his gaze steady and determined. “Clint, call the Widow and Mockingbird and text Deadpool; tell them to stand by for instructions. Rhodes, you’re the man inside of S.H.I.E.L.D. who knows the players; most of the agents are good people and we’re going to need all the resources, Pierce or no Pierce. Jarvis, find Trip and Dr. Melinda May -- they’re not far. Get them here. I’ll call Fiske, tap into the criminal network through him. Banner, you’ve got connections in the shadow science community -- start pulling those strings.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Betty can make the calls,” Banner said. “You need the Hulk in Wakanda.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“By the time you get there …” Phil started to say. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hank McCoy knows a kid; I can be there in a few seconds.” Banner cut him off. “Hulk likes smashing aliens.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright.”  Phil tapped a couple of lines of data. “I’ll stay here, work with Jarvis. We need comms …” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir, I have a selection available,” Jarvis said. A portion of the wall opened up to reveal a stash of equipment. “SI prototypes with universal connection and high quality sound.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, everyone grab one.” Phil exhaled. “Then let’s get going and kick some ass.” </p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I've had this started since right after the last installment was published but I got sidetracked by a big AU called "Cast the First Stone." I really enjoy this world -- it's my chance to play spy/espionage/thriller writer and challenge myself to reconstruct characters while still keeping true to who they are.  Imagine this as the end of act II, where all the bad stuff is happening and the heroes have to react.  </p>
<p>Yeah, post-structuralism, I know.  Building a brand new villain is actually pretty hard considering the vast canon of comics.  Let's see how this goes.</p>
<p>God, there's so many mentions to Marvel characters in here that I'm not even going to list 'em.  It's a litany of people and places and heroes and villains. Suffice it to say, if you think, "Hey, is that ..." then, yeah, it is. ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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